


Midnight Rain

by Ashley2011



Series: Kartik and Aman: A love story [6]
Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Bike Rides, Caught in the Rain, Confident Aman, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Indulgent Fic, Kissing, M/M, Rain, Romance, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sneaky Kartik, blurted confessions, callback to that ONE scene in the movie, extremely filmy, night out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26086003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashley2011/pseuds/Ashley2011
Summary: "The night is young. But in their haste for a midnight bike ride and a quest for saffron-infused milky tea, they certainly had not foreseen this."Aman and Kartik get caught in the rain a.k.a. my attempt at writing a very filmy fic.Happy Six-month Anniversary!
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Series: Kartik and Aman: A love story [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646779
Comments: 17
Kudos: 35





	Midnight Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [All the lovely people in the SMZS fandom](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=All+the+lovely+people+in+the+SMZS+fandom).



> A very LATE six-month anniversary piece for the lovely fandom. ☺️ 
> 
> Timeline and setting wise, this is a prequel to "In Your Name" but there is no need to have read that to follow this story. 
> 
> Now on with a filmy tale!

* * *

The night is young.

Which is what had led them to go for a night trip to their favourite haunt— the all night _chai tapri_ near ITO crossing.

In their haste for a midnight bike ride and a quest for saffron-infused milky tea, they certainly had not foreseen _this_. 

…

A three-second long rumble of clouds is all the warning they get before they are pelted by big fat droplets raining down from the skies above.

Kartik, riding the bike, quickly surveys his surroundings. They are still a few kilometres from home—they are not even on the right side of Yamuna. The vast expanse of the empty main road lined by towering trees, lit by few functioning street lamps is all there is as far as he can see. Kartik quickly tries to calculate whether taking Nizamuddin Bridge will be a shorter route or—

“Kartik”, a voice interrupts his thoughts somewhere from the vicinity of his right shoulder, “We should stop.”

Aman relaxes his grip from around his waist. Kartik nods affirmatively as he makes a split-second decision. He slows down the bike underneath a tree and they disembark quickly. They make quick work of parking it successfully on both its stands. It’s useless standing under a tree while it rains, but it is better than the open road at least.

“Now what?” he turns towards Aman, forlorn.

But Aman is not looking at him. He is busy scanning the area for something.

“Look there”, he says suddenly, pointing to a spot diagonally opposite. Kartik squints, trying to make out what he is showing him.

It is an unlit bus shelter. But they will definitely get drenched if they cross the road now. Aman hesitates too, probably thinking the same.

But the rainwater percolating through the gap in the tree canopy makes the decision for them.

“Let’s make a run for it, yeah?” Kartik asks, taking off his jacket.

Aman looks at him oddly. “What are you doing?”

In answer, he holds his jacket above both their heads. “Its the least I can do for now.”

Aman’s expression clears. He steps up closer to him, puts one arm around Kartik’s shoulder and says, “ _Chal_ ”

And run they do.

The few seconds it takes to dash across the wide road and into the bus stop seems like an eternity, rain pouring like sheets obscuring their visibility. Kartik trips on a loose brick on the pavement, but Aman steadies him. They finally make it to the shelter and simultaneously heave sighs of relief. Kartik lowers his arms, jacket shield no longer required now.

The relief doesn’t last for long.

Aman is the first one to notice it.

“ _Offo_ ”, he groans in exasperation. Kartik lifts his head to see what has got him so bothered.

The bus shelter roof is leaking in six—no, eight places. There are gaps and cracks from which water drips in intervals. The tin roof looks like it might cave in any moment.

Just their luck.

Beside him, Kartik hears Aman brewing up a storm of curses under this breath.

“What to do,” Kartik tries to placate him, rubbing his arm, “Should have checked the weather forecast.”

“Since when does it rain in the middle of November?” Aman grumbles.

Well, he did have a point there.

They both shuffle around the shelter, looking for a spot where they are less likely to get totally drenched. But it is no use.

He shifts closer to Aman. In the yellow light of the street halogen lamps, Kartik can see the annoyance clearly written on his countenance. Frown lines form creases on his forehead, visible in spite of damp hair plastered to his skin. Water running down from his wet locks form miniature rivulets down the planes of his face. A few droplets cling to his eyelashes. He blinks them away.

Kartik is still holding the jacket in his hands. 

With no solution in sight, the rain picking up intensity and the mood getting steadily angstier, he makes an impulsive decision.

Kartik’s well-worn biker’s jacket drops over their heads, effectively cutting them off from the world outside.

…

…

…

Aman’s mood darkens as the wind picks up speed, contributing an added chill to their already miserable surroundings. He notices Kartik looking his way, but he says nothing. What is there to say anyway. Neither of them had thought the night would turn out like this. After their _chai_ time, they had planned to make a circuit around the Commonwealth Games village area, maybe stop at Sanjay Lake for a while, then head back home—but no. The post-monsoon clouds literally had to rain on their outing. He blinks rapidly as a few raindrops cling to his eyelashes.

In the next few seconds, several things happen all at once.

Kartik turns towards him, gets right into his personal space, and leans close to him. As Aman’s eyes widen due to their sudden closeness, Kartik raises his arms and drapes his biker jacket around their heads and shoulders.

The moment the fabric drops over his head, the sounds of the outside world gets muffled, almost muted. In the close confines of the jacket shelter, Aman feels their warm breaths mingling.

There is an instant change in the mood—irritation quickly replaced by charged anticipation, senses heightened due to lack of light or their proximity to each other.

Aman’s breath hitches even as a question forms in his tongue.

Kartik places his index finger on his lips and any protestation he had dies in his throat.

“You’re thinking so loud, Aman _jaanemann_ ”, he murmurs into the shell of his ear, finger hovering over his lips. Aman parts his lips—an involuntary action—as Kartik’s thumb brushes over his bottom lip, touch feather-light.

“Remember the last time when we were like this?”, Kartik continues, as if he is not driving Aman mad with his tantalising touches.

“Mmm-hmm” he replies.

‘Wow’, Aman thinks sarcastically, ‘so eloquently put.’

“Chaman _chacha_ always has the best ideas _na_? Although the intention was no-homo, heh, what was he thinking—“

“Kartik.”

A single utterance of his name shuts up Kartik from going further into his trip down the memory lane.

Good. Aman doesn’t want him thinking of anyone or anything else right now.

“Don’t want to waste an opportunity now, do we?” he asks, voice dipping down an octave as he moves closer to Kartik. He doesn't know where this sudden bout of confidence is coming from.

Now it’s Kartik’s breath that hitches and stutters.

“And what are your intentions, dear husband?” he asks, fingers curling around his chin.

Aman can’t see his face. But he is sure he’s a flustered, flushed mess judging by the way his voice has a slight tremor to it.

“You will have to wait and see, dear husband” he murmurs as he plants a kiss underneath Kartik’s jaw.

Aman hears a sharp intake of breath as he steps back, Kartik’s hand trailing on the side of his face. Yellow light leaks in from around the edges of the opening the jacket creates around Kartik’s shoulders, making a halo around his head. In this limited luminescence, he sees Kartik swallow audibly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

The sight ignites something in Aman.

Now, he is not someone who indulges in PDA in public. But right now it’s just the two of them in their own little bubble, cut off from the rest of the world.

What has he got to lose?

With this thought, he pulls down Kartik by his shirt collar and captures his lips with his own.

...

...

...

Rain beats down relentlessly on the tin shed. Some of it patters against the fabric over their heads, making a dull tap-tap sound as Kartik and Aman lose themselves in one another under the shelter of the jacket.

Kartik cradles Aman’s head in his palms, tilting his face upwards. He cannot see much, but he can definitely _feel—_

Aman did catch him off guard a few moments ago. When he had draped the jacket over themselves, Kartik hadn’t anticipated _this_.

Aman always catches him by surprise. And Aman during rains is a totally unpredictable, unprecedented marvel of a human being.

Very little light makes its way inside their shared darkness of a cocoon. But it is enough to let him see the dazed yet smouldering look on his Aman’s face, kiss-swollen lips curving into a small smile.

A stray droplet of water lands on his cheek, probably from Kartik’s wet hair. The errant droplet rolls down his face, onto his parted lips, and Kartik can’t help but bend down to capture it.

Soft lips mould into his own, rainwater disappearing within seconds. Aman threads his fingers into his hair, stroking and pulling the wet strands in equal measure. A moan builds up deep in Kartik’s throat. Aman swallows it from his mouth before it can even reach his ears. His gut twists in pleasure. His toes curl inside his waterlogged sneakers, but Kartik couldn’t care any less.

Kartik can feel rainwater against Aman's cheek as he mouths along his jaw. Aman’s hot breath tickles his ear, rapid and stuttering. He dives in again, gently catching his bottom lip, tugging, teasing, testing, tasting—

Aman’s lips taste like tea and rain.

Kartik lets Aman have his way for a while. He ceases to think any further, as Aman tilts his head _just so_ , hands brushing along his shoulders and down his chest. He encircles his arms around Aman’s waist, pulling him closer still. Aman is kissing him with unbridled passion, and Kartik has no shame in admitting it makes him weak in the knees. He cannot get enough of him. He wants to be surrounded by him, nothing but him.

Aman. His Aman.

Just the rain, and them. No witnesses except an empty road and glimmering lamps.

After minutes, hours or maybe eternities later (in this liminal space where time holds no meaning), when they separate to catch their breaths, Kartik gathers Aman in his arms. Aman readily burrows himself to Kartik side, ear over his thundering heart. They stand together, listening to the rain making music on the tin shed; hiding under the safety of a jacket, locked in a loving embrace.

Aman begins to trace patterns on Kartik’s rain-soaked arm with his finger. Kartik marvels at how he can trace the intricate tattoo’s outline perfectly without even looking. The repetitive light touch on his damp skin puts Kartik to ease.

They may be drenched wet and cold, yet they’ve never been more at peace in a setting outside of their home like they are now.

It’s like this moment has been made just for them.

...

...

...

The street light nearest to them flickers as a bolt of thunder flashes across the sky, illuminating the semi-darkness briefly. Kartik gets startled by the lightning. Aman clutches his hand a little bit tighter.

“ _Darr lag raha hai?_ ” he whispers, still a little breathless, echoing a question asked months ago.

His thumb strokes the uneven surface of Kartik’s knuckles, and he relaxes almost immediately.

“As long as you are by my side, never”, he whispers back.

Aman smiles at his response, holding up his hand to brush a kiss across his knuckles. It is something that Kartik himself is fond of doing with Aman’s hands. His metal rings feel cold against his lips, contrasting with the rain-soaked warm skin. Kartik gently slips his hand away from Aman’s. Placing it underneath his chin, he tilts Aman’s face up. Even in the almost darkness, he has to— no, feels the need to look at him. A distant part of Aman’s mind wonders why. As if he already hasn’t seen everything that there is to see about Aman’s rather plain visage.

(He knows, if Kartik gets wind of his inner monologue, he will vehemently oppose this statement with something as cheesy as _“you’re beautiful!”_ , but that is a concern for another time.)

Kartik brushes his other hand along Aman’s jaw, fingers almost languorous in their exploration, leaving faint indentations on his stubbled skin, which last for no longer than a few milliseconds.

Aman regains some of his playfulness and retaliates by pulling him closer by his belt hoops. Jolted thus, the jacket begins to slip off their shoulders but Kartik prevents it from sliding off completely.

Not yet.

He wants to live in this almost surreal world with his beloved for a little while longer.

Kartik seems to agree with his unvoiced thoughts. Aman moves closer, stretches himself up on his toes, mouth sliding lightly along Kartik’s neck.

Words tumble from his mouth unplanned.

“I am in love with you.”

Even though this is not exactly news to him, Kartik stills.

“I am in love with you. Your passionate soul, your crazy mind, your gentle spirit. I love you so much…It scares me Kartik” Aman whispers into his neck, along the column of his throat, against his earlobe in succession. Sounding almost as if he is sharing a confession.

And it might as well be a confession. In all their years of being together, Aman has never said anything remotely resembling this hushed declaration beyond the walls of their bedroom. 

Not in an outdoor setting like this one. Random outbursts are more of Kartik’s forte.

  
Kartik is struck so speechless that this time, when the jacket slips off, he makes no effort to prevent its downward slide. As it glides off, Kartik’s lamplit awestruck face is revealed in all its glory. Looking at his him reminds Aman of the moon that has finally emerged from beneath wayward clouds, emitting a soft mellow light and illuminating everything in its vicinity.

Kartik. His Kartik, his moonshine.

Aman suddenly feels that his outpouring of emotions may have become too heavy for them. He ducks his head, cheeks growing hot.

This weather makes him rather reckless, unpredictable.

Speaking of which, he notices that the rain had reduced in its intensity. Now is his chance.

He hooks the collar of Kartik’s jacket in his fingers and dashes towards their bike, clasping Kartik’s hand in his own.

Kartik hesitates for a split second before a dumb smile takes over his face, and he runs along.

A short sprint later, when they reach the tree, Kartik tosses the bike keys to Aman. 

But Aman is too distracted. He fails to catch them.

Because. Kartik. In. The. Rain.

(the street light lends an unearthly glowing sheen to his skin, drops of water cling to the ends of his hair, his nose ring glints and twinkles…)

  
Kartik raises an eyebrow in question. Aman shakes his head.

He flounders for half a minute to find the fallen keys, at the same time trying to hide his smile. An excitement, anticipation of sorts is building in his stomach, and he does not know where it will lead him tonight.

When Aman finally manages to start the bike, Kartik clambers on rather quickly, hands snaking around his waist, chin propping on Aman’s shoulder.

“Letsgoletsgoletsgo” Kartik chants in his ear.

Aman chuckles.

“Such a hurry to go?”

“It’s raining, in case you didn’t notice.”

“It’s a light drizzle now. Also, you weren't so keen a few minutes ago?”

Kartik huffs and tightens his hold around Aman’s waist as he revs up the bike engine.

“Hmm, but now its rather urgent.” 

“Why? What do you wanna do?”

Kartik nuzzles against his neck and almost growls in his ear,

“ _You_.”

Aman breaks all speed limits (wet asphalt aside) to book it to their flat.

The night, after all, is still young.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> The Aashiqui Jacket wala scene begged to be written. So here it is ^_^
> 
> Six months ago, my life changed. For good. I remember exiting the cinema hall and crying and walking around, half-blinded by tears. the film, the fandom, the people, mean so much to me. I love you all. so much. 🤗 *hugs* 
> 
> P.S.: Dear Partner-in-crime, thanks for your daily and hourly enabling hehe 😜


End file.
